A letter from the future?

Matt collected the mail today.

“A very strange letter came for you,” he said. “It’s addressed to you in what looks like your handwriting, and there’s no return address. Could it be a letter from yourself in the future?”

My eyes lit up.

“A letter from the future? Oh boy!”

No, I didn’t actually believe some Future Me had reached through the fabric of time to deliver a life-altering message to Present Me (“Don’t drink that expired soy milk.” or maybe “Remember to floss our teeth.”) But there was always the very-real possibility that Past Me mailed a letter to Present Me to “call dibs” on some kick-ass invention idea. I would need to carefully analyze this envelope before I broke that virginal seal. I made a beeline for the kitchen table and the pile of mail discarded there.

Yep, that was definitely my handwriting. And I remembered the stamp, one from the United States Post Office’s “Go Green” collection. I purchased a sheet of the eco-friendly stamps a few months ago. “Fix water leaks,” this one instructed. It featured a drawing of a hand twisting a water faucet handle.

When it comes to postage, I prefer pretty over practical and so typically purchase the special edition stamp sheets instead of the rolls containing the generic flag motif.  And when the special edition sheets contain various different designs, I subdivide further by designating the “boring” ones for envelopes containing bill payments (surely the artistry of a primo design would be wasted on whichever frazzled accounts receiving processor received it). So could this be a bill -- billed to myself?

Still holding out on the invention scenario, I snapped pictures of the front and back of the envelope to protect the integrity of my intellectual property. Then I took a deep breath and ripped open the envelope.

Inside was a hand-written note from River Styx, a St. Louis-based literary journal. I suddenly recalled mailing my “Deer Battle” essay for consideration for the journal’s forthcoming “Revenge” issue. A self-addressed envelope had been required should the writer desire a formal rejection.

“Megan, I’m sorry we couldn’t take your story. Competition for the Revenge issue has been tough. Thanks for giving us a shot. – KL.”

Darn.

Yes, rejection sucks. But at least K.L. – whoever he (or she) is -- took the time to send that note. It’s nice to know someone read my submission, and perhaps it even made this K.L. person laugh. Perhaps he even noticed the envelope’s postage stamp.